"Whoever you are probably just left."
It's a good line, good way to end a poem.
Against the pull of a magnet, the Earth's
Whole gravity surrenders paper clips.
At cosmic scales, quantum poetry
Equals the three-hundred and two seconds
Of totality. Out here, gravity matters
More than matter, more than time. It's what was
And therefore what is, but down there, it's not.
It's the heart beating against the species'
Demand for more hearts to go on beating
Against. There's no good way to end a poem.